Page 6 of The Kiss that Captured a Billionaire
“You good? You seem a little tense,” Nikos asked, sipping his drink.
Theo didn’t answer. His eyes remained locked on her. “Who’s on the door tonight?”
“Rhys,” Nikos replied. “Why?”
Theo lifted a hand, silently signaling the upstairs bouncer. Rhys appeared seconds later, attentive and watchful.
Theo nodded toward the table below. “The woman in the gray sweater, alone. Invite her up.”
Rhys glanced once, gave a subtle nod, and disappeared.
Theo stood and watched as Rhys threaded his way through the crowd to the woman. A slow smile curved his lips. There was something about her watching the room with quiet curiosity. She was untouched, real, in a sea of imitation.
Maybe Nikos was right. Maybe a little company was exactly what he needed tonight.
Rose took a slow sip of her ice water and mentally counted the number of ceiling tiles she could see from her angle. Twelve. Possibly thirteen if she squinted past the pulsing LED lights.
She set the glass down with a quiet clink and sighed. “Next time,” she muttered, “say no to glitter, body heat, and whatever DJSadism is torturing me with. What I wouldn’t give for a little Ella or Louie Armstrong right about now.”
Her head ached, and her tolerance for over-spritzed strangers had evaporated the minute Kerry had texted:
So sorry! Called in to work. I owe you. Big.
Of course, that message had arrived after Rose was already here—after she’d dolled herself up with lip balm and put on her grandfather’s old, oversize sweater that she hadn’t had the heart to donate to the thrift store. After tonight’s performance of Beauty and the Beast, she just wanted comfort clothes.
She would’ve bolted immediately if not for Clarissa and her entourage showing up like an obnoxiously perfect perfume commercial: windblown hair, glitzy makeup, and a giggle that could pierce steel. Rod, Clarissa’s boyfriend, had brought along some guy whose name Rose didn’t catch. Probably something pretentious like ‘Bryson’ or ‘Clifford.’
Apparently, this guy wouldn’t be allowed into the club unless he had a date. A ‘date’ who had rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw her childhood.
She’d barely said hello before his hand tried to migrate to the region of her butt. That hand had been redirected with a glare cold enough to flash-freeze the surface of the sun.
After that, Clarissa had pouted, Rod had shrugged, and Bryson-Clifford-Whoever had slunk off to try his luck elsewhere. Rose, by unspoken decree, had been dubbed the official table and drink guardian. Which suited her just fine.
No need to fake enthusiasm for the overpriced cocktails or endure Clarissa’s giggles weaponized as flirtation. All she had to do was nurse her water, stare at the swirling mass of humanity, and mentally draft tomorrow’s grocery list.
Food. That is something I should have thought about before coming,she ruefully thought as her stomach grumbled with displeasure.
She stiffened when another would-be Lothario with a dry smile and a raised eyebrow approached her. She offered a sweet smile before addressing him.
“Unless you have snacks, a heating pad for severe menstrual cramps, and a signed apology for the state of modern dating, I’m not interested.”
Amusement flashed through her when the guy blinked like a barn-owl, looked confused, and muttered said apology verbally before he wandered off, possibly in search of more alcohol.
She was breathing out another exasperated sigh when the universe decided to level up—or at least double the size—of her next male contender. It took everything inside her not to bang her aching head on the table.
Kerry is so going to owe me for this one,she thought, groaning inwardly.
The man beside her looked like a boulder in a tux—massive, muscled, and disturbingly symmetrical. His beard alone probably had its own gym membership.
“Good evening, miss,” he said, his voice low and polite. “My name is Rhys. I’m a team member of the club.”
Rose smiled back at him. “Good for you. I hope they pay you well—and throw in earplugs and a lifetime supply of ibuprofen.”
“I—” He looked confused for a moment before he chuckled and nodded. “Yes, well… um, you’ve been invited to the VIP lounge, ma’am.”
She stared at him. “Why?”
Another flash of confusion swept across his face before he schooled his features again. “Because Mr. Kallistratos requested it personally.”
